Tina splays her tiny hands on her even tinier hips.
“Please,” I add on quickly, recalling how much she likes manners.
Her lips tug into a smirk as she sets down a second bottle in front of me. My eyes drop to her ass when she struts away to serve other patrons requesting her service. Her hips sway in beat to the music booming around the club. She knows she’s sexy, and she works it to her advantage.
I jump out of my skin when Noah magically appears at my side. “You weren’t kidding about this place getting packed.”
Pretending I didn’t just jump two feet in the air, I hand him a beer then mosey to a booth located near the bar. I don’t want to stumble too far to get a refill. Although, I’m sure if I added a “please” to my request, Tina would deliver my beer.
* * *
Over the next thirty minutes, the club becomes more crowded. People dance provocatively under the strobing lights, moving in sync to the music blaring out of the speakers hanging from the ceiling. There’s no doubt in my mind, dancing is a form of sexual activity. It's nearly as close to the real thing, except you keep your clothes on.
Although these days, some of the girls’ outfits can’t really be classed as clothing.
When I hear a remix of Nelly Furtado’s classic song “Man Eater” blasting from the speakers, I jump out of the booth I’m sitting in. “I need to get myself a man-eater!” I waggle my brows at a shocked Noah. “You coming?”
Noah shakes his head, mortified I'd even suggest he join me on the dance floor. He has no idea what he’s missing out on. The ratio of girls to men on any dance floor sits at around four to one. Four beautiful women per one horny male. Those are ratios I like.
The instant I hit the dance floor, the statistics stack up. Several beautiful women move toward me at once. There’s a dampness in the air from the mass of bodies in one space, but it’s invigorating. The musky smell reminds me of the scent in a bedroom after hot, raunchy sex.
When the DJ notices me, he drops his chin in greeting before skipping to the next song on his playlist: a dance mix of Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.”
He knows as well as I do how many women love dancing to this song. They want to feel sexy, and I’m more than happy to help them feel that way.
If you hate being manhandled, I suggest you stay off the dance floor. I’ve been grabbed, poked, and felt up multiple times the last two songs. I find it amusing that women don’t hesitate to grab a feel of my dick without permission, but if I dared to touch their breasts without asking, all hell would break loose.
I guess it’s fortunate I don’t mind the touchy-feely girls.
By the time the current song fades into a new one, I’ve found myself two beautiful dance partners. One is plastered to my front, her hips swinging in beat to the music, whereas the other is splayed on my back. She’s so close, her erect nipples scratch my back with every grind she does.
When the brunette attached to my crotch bends down to grind her ass on the zipper in my jeans, a flurry of red catches my eye. There’s a heart-stopping blonde in a tight mini-dress approaching the dance floor from my right. She has her arm curled around a petite brunette who’s cuddled up to an equally attractive redhead. I don’t like rating women until I’ve done an in-depth evaluation of their faces in non-strobing lights, but I can happily testify that this blonde is a knockout. Her heart-shaped face, oval eyes, and dick-twitching body make her an easy eleven out of ten. Her friends aren’t bad either.
Excitement overwhelms me. I’ve hit the fucking trifecta. Three beautiful girls all at once. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. You can’t get better than this!
The blonde is already holding my interests, but when she twirls and I catch a glimpse of her lace panties, her fate is sealed. I’m more than interested in getting to know her and her panties a little better. When she giggles at something her friends say, I can’t help the smirk that forms on my face. Her smile knocks her attractiveness out of the park. She’s more than pretty. She’s out of this fucking world beautiful!
My dick twitches when the trio begins dancing in the middle of the floor. Its spasms shift to my jaw when a handful of men ditch their dance partners to move closer to the them—not that the girls notice. They have no clue how much attention they’re gaining. A dozen men are stalking them like lions eyeing their dinner, but they’re utterly oblivious they’re seconds from being devoured.
Too busy calculating my next move, I forgot I have company until a pair of lips attach to mine and a tongue lashes them. Usually, I’d appreciate the brunette’s forwardness, but the erection I'm sporting isn’t from her grinding her tailbone on my crotch. It’s compliments of the sexy blonde and her naughty lace panties.
Inching back from my dance partner’s embrace, I peer past her slumped shoulders to seek the trio mere seconds from being attacked by a pack of hungry lions. My heart rate kicks into overdrive when I notice the blonde is the only one remaining on the dance floor. Her friends have up and vanished.
Perfect,I chant to myself when a brilliant idea formulates in my head.
I drop my eyes to a pair of lust-filled green eyes. “Did you want a drink?”
The pretty brunette’s tongue delves out to lick her parched lips before she nods.
“Great! Grab me a beer while you’re there?”
I spin her toward the bar then give her a nudge in the direction I want her to go. I'm being an insensitive jerk, but I need to get her away from me, and I need to do it quick. A handful of men have also noticed the blonde has been left unattended. I don’t have seconds to spare. If I want to make a move, I have to make it now, and considering she has my heart racing like no woman ever has, it isn’t an option; it’s a requirement.
My dance partner’s eyes narrow, and she huffs, but she still follows my command. The instant her black pumps step off the dance floor, I rush for the blonde. I reach her with barely a second to spare, barging numerous contenders out of my way in the process.
“There you are, baby cakes, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Not giving her the chance to protest, I plant a long, steaming peck onto her red-painted lips.
